


Oh, Bloody Angel

by Showtime (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Category: Chicago Blackhawks - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of a Suicide Attempt, Suicide Attempt, hospital fluff, slight descriptions of self harm markings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/Showtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Showing up for practice that morning hadn’t been what Jonathan had expected.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At all.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Bloody Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Showing up for practice that morning hadn’t been what Jonathan had expected.

_At all._

Secretive glances between the players, before they would glance at Jonny, then turn away when his gaze fell on them. Silence was heavy in the rink, besides the hushed whispering of Panarin and Seabs, the smacking of pucks against sticks and the barriers.

Glancing at the time in an irritated manner once more, Jonathan slammed his stick on the ice.

“Right, I’ve given him more than enough time, where the hell is Kaner?”

Everyone glanced at one another, most people shrugging before they moved to continue batting the puck around before Seabs cleared his throat.

“Does no one else know what happened?”

Jon raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.

“Kaner... Patrick had a really rough night. He got drunk and he ended up. He.” Panarin fell silent, staring at the ice. Seabs cleared his throat.

“He’s in the hospital, Jonny; suicide attempt.”

Jon thought for a moment he had been doused in cold water. He couldn’t feel his arms or his legs, nor his hands or his feet. Everything was white noise, other than the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears.

Someone shouted, he could register that, and then found himself on the floor of the rink, staring at the ice that was mere inches from his face.

Hands were helping him up, dragging him to the bench so he could sit down. Concern was written on faces that swam by him, but he couldn’t tell who was there.

Everything made sense now. Everything made so much fucking sense and Jonathan hated himself for not picking up the signs sooner.

The way he would keep his arms covered whenever they went out; the way he’d change in a cubicle in the locker rooms, but would casually walk around without his underwear on. The way whenever he had been in the bathroom when Jonny had called by unannounced, he was so jumpy.

 _The fucking text Patrick had sent him last night saying_ I’m sorry please forgive me _._

Jonny thought he had meant the crap he had pulled when he was drunk a few nights ago, celebrating their win against the Canucks.

“I need to... need to go see him.”

It was Seabs who had him secure, leading him to the locker room to change.

xox

“Remember that Mr. Kane is in bad shape, he really needs his rest but... he did say if you ever came to visit, Mr. Toews, he wanted to see you.”

The nurse opened the door as Jonathan nodded and he had to take a breath before he walked in.

His heart broke.

Patrick seemed so small surrounded by the machines that were beeping and flashing around him. The blanket was much too big for him, and he seemed so small.

 _So fucking vulnerable_.

Tears started slipping down Jonny’s face as he moved to sit next to the bed, shaking as his hand reached out to slowly cup Patrick’s. He was still asleep and Jonny dared to tug his arm just enough out of the duvet.

His heart broke all over again.

The bandages over his wrist were bloodied, red; and clean bandages were looped around his arm, up to the elbow crease. Soft spots of pink, some darker ones of red dotted it, and Jonny broke.

His tears streamed down with ugly sobs, his body shook and he head to tilt his head forward and close his eyes.

“Jonny..?”

His head shot upright, eyes wide as he sobbed only to throw his arms around Patrick’s neck.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Pat, why didn’t you talk to me?”

“How did you know I was here..?”

“Panarin and Seabs told me...”

“I told them not to say anything. You need to be on your game. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re in the fucking hospital, Kaner.”

Patrick smiled weakly, his arms bending to stroke away the tears that dropped down the other’s face.

“And I’m _alive_.”

“You could have come to me at anytime. What the hell has been going on with you?”

Patrick smiled weakly before he closed his eyes. “Things just got stressful. You know, being one of the stars of the NHL, having everyone, all your fans, all around the damn world watching me. Having the media judge every single thing I do outside of games. My parents have been discussing sending me to rehab because the media only ever record me drunk. My own family think I’m a damn alcoholic, Jonathan. I just... snapped, I guess. And I’ve had so much emotional turmoil. Oh fuck, Sharpie is going to murder me.”

“Yea, yea, he is.” Jonathan laughed weakly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Patrick’s hand, being careful of the needles running into his hands.

“Patrick, you could have come and spoken to me at any time. You know that.”

“It’s kinda. Complicated.”

“ _Talk_ to me. Nothing will get better if you just bottle it up, Kaner, come on.”

“Just stressed, that’s literally it.”

“What’s that emotional turmoil that you mentioned?”

Patrick closed his eyes, resting his spare arm over them. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m not going to stop pushing, you know that. Might as well tell me.”

Silence filled the room, and the beeping sound of the heart monitor filled Jonathan’s ears. For a moment, he thought he might have gone too far, and he cleared his throat.

“I fell for someone that I shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean? Someone’s wife? Oh my god, you didn’t fall for Abby, did you?”

“What?! No! I um. It’s a. Ugh, I don’t know how to say this for god’s sake.”

“A guy?”

Patrick nodded slowly, arm still hiding his face. “Yea. A guy.”

“Are they on the team?”

Another nod.

“Seabs?”

“No.”

“Panarin?”

“No!”

“Scott?”

“No, damn it. Just think real hard, why don’t you?”

Jonathan fell silent, thinking over practice, thinking over when they went out as a group. Patrick had been quiet and solemn after Sharpie left.

“Was it Patrick?”

“Oh God no. He’s like a brother to me. Forget I said anything.”

The malice in his voice had everything clicking. Jonathan looked up with wide eyes and cleared his throat. Patrick didn’t move, other than to tug his hand away from the other, resting it back on his bed. Jon licked his lips before surging forward, pressing their lips together.

His eyes remained open, only to watch what Patrick would do. The smaller’s eyes widened, only to close. An arm delicately rested around the back of Jonathan’s neck, holding him close.

Their lips moved in a desperate embrace, a delicate dance. Tongues and teeth connected, nibbled, battled for dominance before Jonathan forced himself to pull back, eyes blown, breath heavy.

“Why didn’t you tell me..?”

“I was scared of losing you.”

Jonathan rested his forehead against Patrick’s before sighing. “I have to get back to practice, but I’ll come back afterwards. Then, when you’re ready to, I’ll take you home, you can stay with me for a while.”

Patrick nodded and smiled up at Jonathan, letting his arm drop slowly.

“Look after yourself, Kaner, I better have a boyfriend to come visit after practice.”


End file.
